Chapter Sixteen
The cottage at Bay Shore was by no means big compared to the estate at the Hamptons. But it was comfortable and cheap. The end of the tourist season ensured there would be fewer chances of someone recognizing her.
Noelle watched as Nikko frolicked in the nearby sand. She was reading today’s paper that she picked up from a local grocery store. She devoured every article she could find about Hunter.
She missed him terribly and wondered if he ever thought about her. In all probability, not at all. It horrified her to learn how badly he was doing in the race. After the scandal that ensued with the police brawl and the media calling her protector of illegal aliens, reports predicted he was going to lose. And it was all because he married her. That scenario blew up in his face.
Noelle read the latest article that showed Hunter talking to a group of young people in the ghetto. His eyes seemed animated enough but he looked tired and lost. An arm was placed around a young boy’s shoulder. Noelle’s heart melted in pity. If he lost the election, it was a burden she would carry for the rest of her life.
The day after she left with Nikko, Hunter called incessantly. She refused to take his calls and eventually turned off her mobile. She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. She suspected it was to discuss the terms for their divorce. The thought chilled her to the bones. She had to face that fact soon. But for now, she just wasn’t ready.
Her immediate plans were to get as far away from New York as she possibly could. Canada looked promising. It would be a fresh start away from everything.
“Whatcha reading, Mommy?” Nikko’s tiny voice pulled her away from her reverie.
She showed him the photo of Hunter on the newspaper.
“That’s Uncle Hunter,” Nikko said with glee.
"Yes, it is, honey. I'm afraid he's not doing too well and may lose the election because of me."
“Did you do something bad?” Nikko asked innocently.
"Not bad, sweetie. I just tried to protect Miranda and people thought I was doing something bad. Now they don't like Hunter because of what I did."
“I miss her,” the boy said ruefully. Then his eyes lit up. “Why don’t you tell people what you did for Miranda was not bad? Then maybe they will like Uncle Hunter again.”
Noelle smiled at the precocious suggestion. If only life was as simple as a little boy’s brain.
Then it suddenly hit her. There was something she could do after all. Nikko hit the nail on the head.
Noelle rushed back into the house and searched for the telephone directory. She scrolled through several pages before she found what she was looking for. She reached for the phone and cradled the receiver against her shoulder as she dialed the number. After the second ring, the line was picked up by a female voice. Noelle introduced herself and was soon talking to the Editor-in-Chief of CNBD Networks – the largest media conglomerate on the East Coast.
***
Noelle ran a tongue over dry lips. She never thought she would have to face the media again. But this press conference was one she specifically asked for. After numerous callbacks from the Editor-in-Chief, they finally agreed to her terms. She wanted as many press reporters as possible and the network would have the first option to ask any questions they wanted.
Noelle agreed. She let them sort out all the details.
Noelle arrived at the lobby of The Westin with the Editor-in-Chief in tow. She was taken aback by the spectacle. There was a circus atmosphere as media frenzy announced her arrival. Television remote vans with satellite dishes bearing logos of different networks were parked all across the street occupying two blocks from the hotel. Hordes of paparazzi stalked her arrival. Flashbulbs blinded her as she made her way to the conference room.
Inside, things were even more chaotic. A rostrum occupied the center of a small stage and this was where the Editor-in-Chief led her. Reporters packed the room from wall to wall, even as TV cameras recorded her entrance into the room. Metallic feedback from a microphone announced the start of the press con.
“Silence, please,” the Editor requested the crowd, who immediately settled down. “As you all know, Mrs. Noelle Mancini-Blackwell is here to share her side of the story. We will give her that opportunity and she will be answering some questions from the media after she has made her announcement. Mrs. Blackwell, please proceed.”
Noelle took the mic and breathed deeply, the sound of her sigh magnified a hundred times. She looked at the faces eagerly waiting what she had to say.
“First of all, I want you to know that I don’t like you people very much,” she started cheekily.
That elicited laughter from the crowd, enough to set her at ease.
“There have been a series of events in the past days that have raised questions about my husband’s integrity and his desirability as a public official. I want to reassure you that he is as honorable as the position he is aspiring for. You are all aware of the vast wealth behind the Blackwell name. Hunter does not need this position. Why should he want to shoulder the burden of poverty, a poor educational system, unequal opportunities, social security, tax cuts and gun control? Do you? Because I surely don’t.”
This drew more laughter from the audience.
“This is a thankless job where every mistake is magnified and every good act becomes insignificant. But Hunter Blackwell wants to serve. He dreams of conditioning every child’s mind to dream big, to overlook obstacles, to fly and be the best child that he or she can be. That is what he wants to do.”
She paused dramatically before proceeding.
"I have made some mistakes, bad decisions that have affected the course Hunter wants to follow. But I own up to those mistakes because it was done out of kindness and compassion. Miranda Okafor is not a criminal. She was a victim of circumstances in Nigeria. It was my fault that I took her in without knowing more about who she was. Yes, she was an illegal immigrant but she is also a person who works hard, who is honest, and who had my back when times were tough. She is my friend and one I dearly love and miss. Hunter Blackwell is innocent. He helped me when I needed it the most. I am appealing to you all. Vote for him not because his life resembles some form of entertainment fodder that makes mediocre lives easier to accept, but because once he is seated in that office as your elected senator, I guarantee, your lives will become better. And that's a promise."
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed her impassioned speech.
Then suddenly… bedlam.
“Mrs. Blackwell, how did you meet your husband…?”
“Have you heard from Miranda…?”
“How did she end up working for you…?”
“Is it true you were having immigration problems about your own stay here…?”
“Did you marry him for his money…?”
Media bombarded with questions all around.
Noelle gamely answered, bringing all of them along with her journey. They felt compassion for Miranda, swooned over her initial meeting with Hunter, laughed uproariously about his remark about not knowing how to boil water and her initial suspicion that he was a restaurant spy out to steal her recipes. Noelle took them with her memories of the first dance, their first kiss, the wedding and the honeymoon in Paris. She spared no details. An open book had no secrets.
They lapped up her story like it was their own. Noelle knew that she had finally won over the press to her side. She hoped it was enough to turn the tide for Hunter.
“Mrs. Blackwell! Mrs. Blackwell!” A voice from the back screamed to be heard.
Noelle smiled, thinking it was another journalist with another juicy question for her to answer. She acknowledged the upraised hand at the back, as the horde of reporters parted and made way for their colleague to come forward.
It wasn’t a reporter after all. It was a man wearing a hotel uniform. He eagerly grabbed a mic and asked.
“Mrs. Blackwell, do you know that your husband is on TV at this very moment?”
“What?” Noelle was caught by surprise.
There was a mad scramble from those present in search for the TV remote. A flurry of hands passed along a narrow object until it reached one nearest the flat screen. A click, then it came to life and revealed Hunter’s face. But it was the tail end of his statement everyone heard.
“…So it is with a heavy heart and after much soul-searching, I am declaring my withdrawal from this campaign. My wife has suffered tremendously over the negative publicity that has hounded us for the last few weeks. It has driven a wedge between us. I have come to a decision that she is the most important person in the world to me. Success is meaningless without her by my side. I love you, Noelle. Please come home.”
Noelle felt tears well up in her eyes and felt all her love for Hunter in that single moment. She knew that he was the one for her. “Where is he?” she asked tremulously.
"I believe he's in the penthouse suite of this hotel. I encountered the camera crew that recorded…" The man in the hotel uniform replied.
Noelle didn’t wait to hear the rest of his account. She rushed out, followed by a procession of reporters with cameras still rolling. There was a chaotic sprint for elevators to ferry them to the penthouse.
Noelle was stunned at the coincidence. This had to be fate playing a hand, sparing her from a curve ball and tossing a straight one in her direction. It could have ended as a cruel joke. But it wasn’t. Hunter just announced on national television that he loved her… HE LOVED HER.
Noelle found herself gently pulled by the arm. It turned out to be the man in uniform who admitted he was a bellhop who worked at The Westin.
“He’s in there,” he announced excitedly, pointing to a closed door.
Noelle pushed the door open, without bothering to knock. Hunter instantly looked at her and their eyes met for a second. The second that felt like an eternity and in that moment they had communicated all that was to be said soon after.
“Noelle?” Hunter exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing…?”
Noelle rushed to him and said, “Oh, you crazy, crazy man. Why did you do that?’
She fell into his arms and sobbed as the whole world witnessed the look of tenderness that shone brightly in her husband’s eyes.